


I Love You, Dean

by Dafuq



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:10:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7271458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dafuq/pseuds/Dafuq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Cas,” It’s the only word his muddled-up mind can grasp, while the rest of his words seem to die on his dried tongue. ONESHOT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love You, Dean

**Author's Note:**

> UNBETA'D. I wrote this a couple years ago, and totally forgot about it. I honestly think it seems to be aging quite well. I originally wrote it as an exercise in writing smut (can never have too many PWP stories out there) but the timeline is a bit all over the place, especially now. It dates back to when Cas kept porting in and out of episodes, due to the civil-war thing going on in heaven. Also, he has more human emotions, so maybe somewhere in Season 9?  
> Anyways, it's super fast-paced for a one-shot, so sorry if you're looking for a realistic slow burn.

The confession has Dean’s heart clenching uncomfortably tight, followed by erratic skips that has his body going numb. His breath audibly hitches in his throat while his brain tries desperately to catch up and he inwardly scolds himself. Since when did he become such a _girl_? This isn’t the first time he’s heard someone say these words to him, nor would it likely be his last, only this time it hits him like a semi-truck.

Dean’s lips have parted absently, as if he’s on the edge of speaking; maybe he’s going to throw out a playful rebuttal, or maybe change the subject entirely. He’s unsure. He was too busy telling himself it was just a miscommunication. However, when he raises his eyes to meet azure blue, any witty remarks he managed to forage together dissipate entirely.

“Cas,” It’s the only word his muddled-up mind can grasp, while the rest of his words seem to die on his dried tongue.

Castiel stands rooted near the motel’s entryway, trepidation clearly settling over his darkened features as he awkwardly transitions his weight from foot to foot. Nothing about him was overtly different, Dean noted as he observed the angels appearance; the familiar beige trench coat still hung loosely over the familiar disheveled suit and tie. His dark hair was still tousled in a way that looks almost deliberate, and his everlasting scruff shadowed his jawline. Castiel’s sharp eyes were glued forwards and his cracked lips firmly sealed shut, intending to wait and watch, but as the clock ticked, the prolonged silence began to eat away at him and he raked fingers through his unkempt hair. It only added to his messy appearance, before he let out a disdainful huff of laughter. It was then, that Dean snapped back and remembered the angel was waiting for him to finish.

“Cas,” Dean started once more only to pause for a split second. Composing himself enough to lean back in the rickety chair, he runs his own hand through his hair, “…What’s gotten into you? Do you even understand what you’re sayin’ here--what you’re _implying_?” He swallows, “People don’t go throwing that out there like a casual greeting, man. It’s not the same as some bible-thumping ‘God-knows-no-bounds’ bullshit.” There was no malice hidden behind the statement, but the poor choice of words has Dean flinching nonetheless.

Castiel’s eyes narrow with reproach before speaking,

“Dean, do not presume that I am so ill-informed. I am aware of the differences, for I _can_ speak for myself.” He looks away, bashfully, “My words are my own and I mean them. Certain… occurrences have shed light upon my current situation. I felt compelled to inform you of what I have discovered, but I am beginning to wonder if I’ve made the right decision in doing so.” Dealing with human emotions still confused the angel but there was no denying the ecstasy that pumped through his veins, or the heart that thrummed hard and heavy in his chest whenever he visited the certain Winchester. He appreciated the fact that he finally could place a name upon these feelings. That being said, he expected a different result.

 “Look, this just isn’t you. You usually don’t go spewing sentimental crap like that.” Dean states. The old chair was scooted away from the table, the wood screeching along the cheap vinyl flooring as the hunter rose from his spot. Slowly, he made his way towards the entrance, only stopping once he was planted in front of the silently fidgeting brunette. They stood almost eye to eye, as they firmly held each other’s gaze.

Before Castiel had dropped that bomb, Dean had been in the middle of researching while Sam was out on the town conducting inquiries. He had almost opted for watching pay-per-view porn to thoroughly enjoy his time alone, but on a whim he decided against it. Thank God. Instead of being caught in the middle of jackin’ it, he had been nursing a cold beer when Cas arrived. His attentiveness towards the angel’s sudden appearance was quickly disregarded though, as he chalked it up to more civil-war nonsense. He never expected the first thing out of his mouth would be a heartfelt declaration.  

 “You can’t be-- You just can’t. I’m nothin’, Cas. Don’t you get it? Hell, I’m just a speck in your timeline. I’m not even remotely worth the trouble.” Castiel’s mouth hangs open as if to interrupt, and Dean raises a hand to stop him, “Anyone I’ve ever wanted winds up getting’ hurt, or worse, killed because of me. I won’t jeopardize your safety by adding you onto that list. Not if I can help it. I can’t lose you like I’ve lost the others,” He swallows the lump that formed in his throat.

“I am more than capable of fending for myself.”

Silence rang throughout the motel as they stood there, awkwardly, and indecisively before Castiel continues.

“This… this worked a lot differently in the movie.” He muttered absentmindedly, and it was so serious, so confused, it had Dean throwing his head back with a barking laugh. Castiel ducked his head down, his ears reddening with embarrassment, or anger, he didn’t know.

“Is that what brought this on?” Dean muses lightly. A heartbeat later he can’t help but question, “Why? What makes me different from the rest?”

With a smile now playing upon his lips, his gusto relit, he took the time to truly examine the powerful being before him.  He began to wonder if Castiel’s bed-head would look identical after a true night in bed, or how the stubble would feel scraping along skin. Would his intense gaze still pierce once they were glazed over? What about the chapped lips; would they still look rough and cracked once they were wet? His breath hitches when he finds himself apt to idea of finding out and he quickly reprimands himself. Even so, it didn’t stop him from warily placing a light hand around the angel’s neckline. He could feel the stiffening muscles as he stroked his calloused thumb over the pulse point there. It’s enough to get Castiel returning his attention back to Dean.

 “Because…” Castiel murmurs, looking slightly affronted, “I fell for you.”

The gruff voice, etched raw with emotion was so matter-of-fact, Dean found himself holding his breath once more. He can’t begin to understand why Cas is suddenly taken a turn towards movie clichés, but he can’t deny that it worked on him. With anyone else, he would have swept it under a rug with the flap of his arms and an ‘oh-come- _on’_. There’s also something about the angels frank demeanor that has Dean on the edge of his seat. This is the one that’s saved him on numerous occasions, marked him, and made him. He was the closes thing to family, aside from Bobby and Sammy, and he would do anything to save him. It’s decided that he would also try his damndest to make this big oaf of an angel happy. He really is going soft.

He wet his lips absentmindedly, grinning at Castiel’s confusion, before leaning forwards, “Friggin’ angels.”

When his lips met Castiel’s in a chaste kiss, the feeling was slightly foreign to the hunter. The mechanics were the same, sure, and he’s had his fair share of romping around, but this—this was bound to handle differently. No glossed lips to stick to his. No craning his neck downwards. No tits to fill the space between them. It was akin to driving a brand new car. Now, He knew his 67’ Chevy Impala by heart; inside and out. He knew what made the engine purr and knew what parts to tamper with without damaging her, but Castiel was a different brand of car entirely.

Dean locked up, pulling away slowly. He found himself wondering if he could drive anything other than his Impala, but as he idled, swift and strong fingers reach out to curl around the hem of his coat sleeves, quickly sinking any discouraging thoughts. He noted that one hand still held Castiel around his collar. When he felt a light tug on his opposite sleeve, he allowed himself to be pliant and it soon joined the other.

Castiel, cheeks tinged red to match his ears, searched Dean’s face for a long while. Was it merely acceptance? Or an invitation? The angel lacked the proper social skills to truly decipher the meaning for what it was and he found himself frustrated. Inwardly hoping for the latter, he wasted little time in rushing forward.

When mouths connect for the second time, it’s harsh and quick. The angel’s mouth was already parting open to push a seeking tongue against the seam of pink lips. When the dazed hunter allowed him in, Dean found himself tripping to catch up, as Castiel’s fervent determination hastened. It was so sinfully skilful, that it threw Dean off his tracks before he idly remembered the kiss Cas had shared with Meg. It wasn’t until he felt broad hands grip him tight around his waist to yank him close that he lightly nudged against Castiel. Mouth now freed, he took a tiny step back to regain his composure.

“Damn. You sure like to get right to the point.” He chuckles at the quizzical brunette, continuing to trace lazy circles upon the nape of his heated neck, “But there’s no need to be so hasty, is there? Sure, it feels amazing now, but the endgame is much too quick. I promise you that it can feel just as good when turned down a notch,” He slid his hands off Castiel’s collar, down the suits lapels, and slipped inside the open trench coat to tap fingers against the confined ribcage. Each thump had the angel’s heart echoing in response, “In fact, I prefer it.” The whisper ignited a spark behind those forest-colored eyes that had the other swallowing.  

The hunter stepped closer, placing his hands around a lean waist before Castiel cocks his head and breathes out, “Then teach me how.”

The goading remark has Dean shifting closer, reestablishing their lost space, while his eyes slip shut as he inhales shakily. He’s never been one to turn down such heavenly invitations, but the fact that this is Cas makes him pause. He isn’t some passing waitress or some bartender asking for a quick one-nighter. This is his closest friend. His savior. _His_ _angel_. The thought of tainting him makes him feel sick, as well as every bit as excited.

“You have no idea what you’re asking from me. I don’t even know if I can--” Dean stops himself when he feels gentle palms rest over his torso. He looks down and meets Castiel’s affectionate gaze and reconsiders, “To Hell with it.”

Dean rocks forward on the balls of his feet, meeting for a brief touch of lips that leisurely turns hungry. Tightening his grip, he can feel their stubble catching as he opens his mouth and he’s surprised it does nothing but spur him on. Castiel is following his lead now, opening up to meet halfway, keen on the idea of receiving anything the hunter would willingly offer. The slow and lazy drag of their tongues meeting has Dean groaning, while the faintest sounds of their spit-slicked kisses only add to the intense atmosphere.

The hunter retracts, licking along an upper lip playfully before he lowers his head, gently bumping foreheads. He rests it there, allowing their puffs of breath to mingle,

“D’ya see? Moments like this…” His hands crawl up to shed the tan coat from broad shoulders. It falls to the floor, already forgotten, “Moments like this are fantastic when you savor them. Do you know why?” He questions lightly. Taking hands in his, he flips them to place feathery kisses upon each wrist as if he’s revealing the answer. He glances up under his eyelashes expectantly.

 “Because-- it allows you to take the time to appreciate the human body.” The angel’s shocked to find that something so insignificant could have such an effect, so when he answers, he’s equally surprised at how husky he sounds. While Castiel tries to concentrate, Dean moves to his palms and hums his agreement.

Dropping Castiel’s main hand, he focuses on calloused fingertips. When he scrapes his white teeth along the padding, flicking his tongue out to taste them, the angel’s breath audibly hitches in his throat. Lust is building persistently in the pit of the brunette’s stomach, the flames growing with each passing second. The unfamiliar sensation has him writhing in his spot,

“Dean…”

Dean smirks and drops his hands.

“Perfect this, you’ll have people squirming in your hands. Now, don’t get me wrong,” he breathes into an ear, “a nice hard fuck could be just as pleasurable.” He emphasizes this by crowding the angel against the exit before aligning his hips to shift his weight forwards, solidly trapping Cas against him. Castiel’s hands rush to clasp onto Deans hips, both of them gasping as their clothed erections brush. Dean continues, “But you gotta learn to crawl before you walk, big boy.”

“What does that have anything to do with-- _ahh_.” A moan escapes him before he clamps shut. The beginning of a slow and steady grind has Castiel’s brain shutting down. It was then, that it dawned on him just how effective harnessing lust could truly be. The idea that sex, something so primitive, could be used to induce infidelity, murder, or even full-out war had flown over his head so many times… but it all made sense now.

Castiel’s head drops down to rest on Dean’s shoulder so he could stare at where they were slotted together. He notes the scandalizing tent in his loose slacks, whereas the hunter’s dark blue jeans allow little room for no more than a vague bulge. 

Dean turned his head to skim his lips over reddened cartilage and he squeezes his waist, “Still wanna learn?” A nod is his only response, so he clasps onto the brunettes wrist and leads him over to his bed that’s located closest to the clouded window. He shucks off his olive-colored denim jacket before going to draw the shades closed.

Castiel is rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do with himself. He’s painfully nervous as he watches Dean, now discarding his blue denim dress shirt.

Dean began showing clear signs of anxiety as well; his breathing was accelerating and he momentarily refused to meet the angel’s eyes. Castiel wanted to reassure him but didn’t have a clue on how to do so. When he had watched that erotic pornography, it consisted of the pizza-boy and the fully nude female customer. He remembers watching, as the pizza-boy kissed her before bending her over his lap to spank her. He didn’t get farther than that, before he had been interrupted. Similar to the erotica, the movie he had recently seen also taught him how to confront human emotions, but had ended after a kiss. None of those would help him now. Unless…

“Do I… am I supposed to place you over my knee now?” The hunter’s head snaps up so quickly that it had Castiel backing up, hands raised, “Or is it me bending over yours? I’m unsure as to who’s playing the delivery-boy here.”

A moment ticks by before Dean remembers what it is the angel is talking about, “Cas, for fuck’s sake, _please_ wipe away that shitty-ass porn from your memory. It’s nothing but trash.” He shakes his head but laughs, all the same, “’Bout gave me a fuckin’ heart attack, you idiot.” He takes the collar of his black shirt to pull it expertly over his head.

Cas drops his hands to stare. Traveling over his toned torso, he could see the bronzed skin was riddled with scars. His shoulders were dusted with the faintest of freckles, matching the ones on his nose and he wanted to kiss every imperfection. He stares at the dark tattoo before his eyes land on the hand printed scar located on his left shoulder and smiles fondly.

Dean rounds the bed and tugs at the ebony suit, “Off.”

The rumpled jacket falls to the floor to be forgotten with the rest of the clothes before Castiel moves. He starts to assist, unbuttoning the white buttons of his dress-shirt while Dean works off his leather belt. The belt slides from the loops easily and drops to the floor with a clank. The hunter then moves to the blue tie and considers leaving it, but he decides against it when realizes he wants no obstructions. All it takes is a tug to pull out the knot and it flutters to the ground.

Now both shirtless, Dean tilts his head down to place pecks along a scruffy jawline. It’s enough to get Castiel to relax and he tilts his head to give the hunter more access, his darkened eyes falling shut and it motivates Dean to continue. Venturing lower, he reaches his throat and leaves a light scatter of playful bites and licks, feeling Castiel’s Adam’s apple bob when he gulps in response. Dean is running his strong hands down a lean stomach and back up, teasingly flicking over hardening nipples and it leaves the other panting. It’s then that he wants him splayed on the mattress.     

He presses forward, but the brunette doesn’t even sway. When he tries again and pushes harder on Castiel’s hips, it’s all in vain. It’s like trying to move a cemented statue and he groans, irritated, “Work with me here, Cas. Bed.”

He pops from his stupor and nods, granting Dean the power to once again maneuver him. When calves hit the flowered comforter, his hands guide himself into sitting position as he sinks down. Dean follows suit, placing his knees on either side of Castiel’s thighs. He lowers his body to slide sensually over the angel’s own, biting his lip when the friction against his dick is an instant reminder of how hard he is.

Castiel looks up when Dean sinks all the way down, resting his weight on his lap. Their restricted erections are aligned again and his mouth falls open. Dean begins rocking in his lap, his fingers going back to give attention to the perking buds of flesh and the angel fists his hands into the bed sheet.

“Touch me,” Dean insists. Castiel shoots him a look, “Come on, anywhere. I don’t care.” He goes with it, reaching up to trace over Dean’s prominent collarbone before ghosting over freckles and around the left shoulder to grip the mark he left on him when he pulled him from Hell. The left hand lowers over his chest, mimicking the hunter’s previous action by circling over a darkened nipple. Deans shaking now and he stills his gyrating hips.

“Keep going.” The hunter grits out. Even he doesn’t truly understand what he’s asking for. Whether it’s to continue his current ministrations or to venture lower, he leaves it for Cas to decipher. This shouldn’t be affecting the hunter as much as it is and he chides himself, takes a few stabilizing deep breaths. As it turns out, Cas chose to keep his attention on his chest fascinated by the stiffening bud. When he leans over to flick a wet tongue against the risen flesh it’s enough to earn him a brash moan.

“ _Cas_.” He looks up, “Change of plans. Lay back. Head against the pillow.” When he spouted his orders, he backed off, rising to his feet.

“What are you planning?” He scooted back gracelessly, plopping his head against the heavy pillow as he watches Dean silently shuffle his way over to the sink. Finding a tiny white complimentary bottle in the corner, he reads it before coming back over to the angel and places it on the nightstand. Castiel curiously glances over, “Lotion?” Dean remains quiet but gives a coy smile.

After he toes off his boots and quickly removes his socks, Dean lowers his eyes to watch himself pop open the button from his jeans. The sound of a zipper pierces through the room and he gives the brunette on the bed one last questioning gaze before he dares to continue. Luckily, the insinuation is so painstakingly obvious, even Castiel understands. The angel steels himself and gives a tight nod. Dean then hooks his thumbs on the belt loop and pulls them down, being cautious of his sensitive prick. Black and white plaid boxers follow, and he steps out of them.

Now bare, he gives his angel little time to become accustomed before Dean’s lowering his knees on the mattress once more. Expertly, he crawls his way up and straddles Castiel, this time his freed cock hangs heavily, the crown ghosting over Castiel’s abdomen. The smallest bead of pre-cum slicks over his skin, leaving a cold trail that has the angel trembling. He dips down, leaving a soft kiss along the side of a mouth before swiftly moving his way down. His lips bush along his chest, his ribs, his tight stomach, and when he reached Castiel’s protruding hip bone, he opts to lick a teasing stripe along the groove. Castiel’s back arching in response, his slacks riding even lower on his hips, and his fingers finding their way into Dean’s mussed hair.

Dean was so close to where Castiel wanted him most that he was on fire, but he held his tongue, unsure of what to even ask for. When he felt the slightest amount of pressure against his straining pants, he lowered his eyes to the sight before him and nearly whimpered. The hunter’s hand cupped the outline of his erection, massaging him gently through the fabric. Dean locked eyes and gave a sly grin at his debauched angel before he lowered his head to wrap soft lips around the tip.

“ _Dean!_ Dean—mmh— _please_.” He tightened his grip as he feels the firm press of a teasing tongue. Its short lived, for the plea accompanied with the tug of his short hair has Dean moaning, releasing him from his mouth. He looks lovely like this, Castiel mused. It’s no wonder why women flock to his beck and call.  The way he holds himself is nothing short from experienced and the carnal gleam in his eyes leaves him breathless.

Castiel’s hands fall slack and he allow Dean to slip through to sit up so he could pop open the button. “Lift,” is all he says before the angel complies and the pants, shoes and socks are all thrown carelessly aside. Now both fully bare, Dean wasted little time in lowering his hips to finally glide their cocks together. The friction was delicious, short-circuiting both of the men’s brains. The hunter paused to grip the brunette’s right hand and guided it towards their erections. Showing him how to stroke in time with his shallow thrusts, Castiel caught on quickly, much to Dean’s delight. Releasing his grip, Dean reaches over to pluck the lotion from the nightstand and pops the cap open to squeeze enough into his palm. Rubbing it in his hands to warm it, he bats Castiel away to slicks both their cocks in the white greasy substance, before allowing the angel to continue, this time the slide of fingers make him involuntarily buck.   

“Fuck,” he lowers to whisper words of encouragement into his angel’s ear, “Cas, why didn’t we do this ages ago? Feels so good. Not too tight. That’s it, baby. There. You’re doing great.” Castiel is proving to be a born natural, with the way he wraps his hand around both of them, stopping his strokes every so often to thumb over the heads to collect their pre-cum before continuing. It’s not long before their silent puffs of air are filling the room and their heated skin going slick with sweat.  

If he truly wanted to, he could easily blow his load just from this, Dean thinks. He could rut against Castiel, hot and heavy and be coming in seconds. But somewhere in the throes of passion, his hand reaches back over to the bottle to squirt some lotion on his fingers. He doesn’t think about it, and he doesn’t allow himself to, as he uses his thumb to coat it thickly around his middle and ring fingers.

Castiel is watching, enraptured as Dean stills his movements to reach around to his backside. The angel’s hand stops, when he catches the briefest squint of eyes and the slightly discomforted hiss escaped a clenched jaw.

Even though the hunter is new to this sort of situation, he knows he’s moving too quickly, it clearly showing in his flagging erection that he’s not giving his body time to adjust to the intrusion, but he couldn’t care any less. The burning stretch as he plunges two fingers into his opening is raw, but it’s nothing he couldn’t handle, and the lotion fortunately slicks his way and he has little resistance. He curls his fingers and wills himself to relax when a few thrusts later, he brushes against his prostate. Dean silently thanks the heavens and concentrates on the new feeling before slipping in his forefinger.

 “Dean, what are you…” Castiel released their cocks, settling both hands against Dean’s thighs. He squeezes lightly, as if reassuring Dean that he doesn’t have to do this.  

“Shut up, Cas.” It comes out sharp and bitter, and Dean quickly apologizes by leaning down to meet his lips.

They’re still kissing when Dean shifts, cautiously removing his digits. He crudely wipes them on the comforter before returning to his flagging erection. With his mind in the right place accompanied by his skilled touches, it’s not long before his blood is returning south as it overrides his brain. His free hand gropes around between them, blindly gripping Castiel’s cock to align his leaking crown to his entrance. Dean wastes little time in straightening his back, before he’s sinking down and is breached.

The brunette keens, for the constricting heat wrapping around his weeping cock is almost too much. Slow and steady wins the race and he forces himself to still, even though every carnal instinct is telling him to thrust forwards; to bury him deep within the confines his partner’s insides. He feels every inch encompass him as Dean eases his way down and the consistent pulse accompanied by the sporadic clenching of muscles has the angel heaving for air.   

Castiel’s girth is sorely underestimated and Dean has to force himself to take in the rest before allowing himself to breathe. As he sits there, hands placed on the angels’ hips for support, he concentrates on how full he feels and gives a few experimental clenches. That’s why he starts when he feels the ghosting touch against his once-again waning erection.

“I…I liked it better when this was firm. You were enjoying it then. I’m not so sure now. I do not wish to cause you any harm.” Castiel’s brows were furrowed with worry, and he shifts to prop up on his elbows, examining the discomfort in the man’s green eyes.

“I want this. Believe me.” He rocked delicately, testing his sensitivity and when his angel’s jaw clenched in pleasure he wanted to elicit more responses. He wanted Castiel moaning out his name, thinking of nothing but him as he comes. Yeah, he wants it alright.

The slow and steady rocking soon turns to shallow rutting and that too is soon replaced with a deep and steady rhythm. It doesn’t take long for the push and pull to have an effect on his arousal, along with their sultry moans filling the room, the hunter’s hard once more. Castiel is proving to be a writhing mess sprawled underneath him; his plump mouth open, head tipped backwards onto the plush pillows. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and his broad hands now wrapped solidly around Dean’s forearms. He has yet to buck his hips, but the toned muscles flexing on his re-entrance gives his desire away. So when Dean stops to give him a pointed look, Castiel understands immediately and complies by wrapping a fist around Dean’s cock before he’s thrusting up and in.

The force behind it is contradicting to the tender strokes and it has Dean grunting. Cas doesn’t hesitate as he pistons forwards, occasionally brushing against the hunter’s prostate. Each time, it sent Dean spiraling that much closer to his much needed release. The vulgar sound of flesh slapping against flesh makes it all that much greater.

“Fuck me, Cas. I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep this up.” In response, Castiel tightened his grip on the leaking cock and speeds up. True to his word, it’s too much for the hunter and he comes after five more jerks, Castiel’s name on his tongue. Dean trembles while he empties his load, Castiel watched enamored as the thick white cum covered his stomach.

“Dean…” When Cas craned his neck up, the hunter acknowledges for the silent plea that it is and bends down to meet him halfway. Mouths met in a sloppy and desperate kiss, as the brunette wraps arms around Dean up in a vice-like grip. It’s all tongue and no finesse, but it was enough to have Castiel whimpering, giving two more brutal thrusts into the relaxed body. It is then that Castiel’s body seizes up and Dean’s amazed that he can feel the base of the angel’s dick convulse while he releases deep inside.

“That’s it, baby. Fill me up all the way.” He kisses along a hot throat, licking the heated flesh while he waits for the brunette to start breathing again before pulling back to appreciate the view of the spent angel below him. He chuckles breathlessly at Castiel’s hazy expression, “Perfect, Cas. Perfect.” He is surprised to find no hidden guilt in his actions. 

“So it was.” Castiel hums, running a single finger through the chilled jizz on his abs. He’s tempted to taste it, but doesn’t, for his lack of knowledge in this matter makes him uncertain if it would be deemed a revolting act or not. Dean is watching intently, reluctant to move from his spot atop his lap.

The shrill of a ringing phone has Dean snapping his head towards the dining table. His mobile phone was lighting up where is sat next to his forgotten beer bottle and opened laptop.

“Shit,” He lifts up, releasing Castiel’s prick with a small hiss of breath, before sauntering over to the phone. In the nude, Dean’s bowlegged walk is more prominent and he can feel eyes on his backside as he glances at the caller id before he flips open his phone, “Yeah, Sammy?” His voice is rough and he winces at how thoroughly fucked he sounds. Castiel watches as Dean spouts out a few ‘yeah’s and ‘nah’s before asking for a burger on Sam’s way home. The view is nice and he finds himself smiling at the crude shine of sweat and lotion covering his thighs and the swell of his ass. His chest tightens with pride.    

When Dean snaps his phone shut, he turns around with a sheepish smile and runs a hand through his damp moussed-up hair. Castiel is sitting, legs crossed on the bed. He looks so small on the queen sized bed and for a minute ‘cute’ runs across Dean’s thoughts. “Well, Sammy is on his way back. He’s grabbing some grub first, but we should probably get dressed. I’d hate to have to explain this one to him.” He goes over to the motel’s sink to grab some tissues. He coyly avoids eye contact while he wipes himself dry, grimacing at how exposed he feels when he runs it over his ass crack. Dean Winchester is not one to be self-conscious, but even he has his limits.

“Dean…”

Dean then smiles fondly, picking up his clothes to dress quickly. He chooses to skip over his boxers, opting for the minimal blue jeans and tee-shirt. Wadding up the remainder of the soiled clothes, he tucks them carefully beside the bed, before plopping on the mattress, jostling Castiel in the process.

“I know,” he brushes a thumb over the angel’s stubble before leaning over to peck him chastely on the lips, “Me too. Now get your bare ass dressed.”


End file.
